


Reflecting Chaos

by DizzyDrea



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Mirror Universe, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Mirror Universe, in the wake of the destruction of Vulcan and Earth, two operatives from different sides of the conflict rush to stop the destruction of the Empire from within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflecting Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> This story sat on my hard drive for a long time, complete except for the last scene. I finally finished it, then sat on it some more. In an effort to declutter my hard drive, I'm posting it here.
> 
> Original notes: I've had this idea tickling my brain for a bit, but I was hesitant to write it. Then I got the idea of setting it in the Mirror Universe and, all of a sudden, it made perfect sense.
> 
> Spoilers: Well, the movie would help, but if you've never seen the TOS episode Mirror, Mirror, then you won't get this. 
> 
> A/N 10/1/17: After rereading this story, I've made an adjustment to the rating from M to T to better reflect the content. Thanks to a reader for pointing out the disconnect. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, CBS, Paramount, JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Darkness was descending at a rapid pace, the setting sun casting long shadows over the buildings. It was the quietest part of the city, filled with warehouses, frequented by only the most unsavory of characters. 

Nyota Uhura crept along the alley, careful to step lightly so as not to disturb the broken glass and scattered leaves and refuse on the ground. She kept to the shadows, senses on alert for any sound that might indicate she'd been discovered. There were very few people out in this part of the city at this time of day, which had been the main reason for choosing this time to visit.

As she approached the end of the alley, she glanced behind herself, checking to see if anyone had followed her. She knew she stood out slightly here, with her long jacket and dark pants and boots fairly screaming that she didn't belong. Her hope was to identify the building she was looking for and then return later, after dark, to go in and look around.

A slight noise from behind her stopped her in her tracks. Just as she was preparing to turn, she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning her roughly. A body slammed her against the brick building, and then arms surrounded her, and lips descended on hers. 

The kiss was searing, filled with heat and excitement. Nyota had no idea who the man was, but she was quickly caught by the fire he was stoking and raised her arms to embrace him. She didn't feel threatened, mostly because he wasn't handling her roughly but kissing her tenderly, lovingly. She felt his hand caress her body, lifting to her face to caress her cheek before he began swirling a finger at her temple.

 _"You are being watched,"_ a voice in her mind whispered.

Nyota froze slightly as a picture floated into her mind of a man with a phase rifle on the roof of the building she'd been searching for. 

_How…?_

As his tongue invaded the velvet warmth of her mouth, and she sagged against him once more, she felt the word telepath drift into her mind. She knew she should be fighting, knew she should be doing more than simply allowing him this liberty, but his kisses were melting her, and she could barely stand let alone fight the liquid heat coursing through her veins.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled back from her, only slightly, and she saw for the first time her… what was he? Her attacker? Her savior? She took in his pale skin and dark eyes, penetrating into her very soul. She stiffened her body, preparing to protest, to shove him away, anything to cool the fire that now raged within her.

With lightening quick speed, his hand shot out and gripped her shoulder and the world faded to black as she slid down the wall.

~o~

Nyota slowly came to consciousness, her head throbbing and her body lethargic. She squinted her eyes open, but there was no need. The room lights were barely set for half, so she opened them more fully and rose as she looked around.

She was in a shuttle craft, of that she was sure. The plain grey walls and simple appointments gave it away, as did the subtle hum of the engines on standby. Sitting up, she noted that the craft was larger than most she'd seen. Besides the cot she'd been laying on, there was a small table surrounded by a few chairs and a console at which worked her… she still wasn't sure what to call him.

The man turned and regarded her intently. 

Nyota sat stunned. Her savior was a Vulcan? She saw those same dark eyes, set in a pale face, but now she took in the rest of him. His hair was dark, and he seemed to favor that same dreadful hairstyle that all Vulcans had. He had a goatee and moustache, an unusual choice, given his heritage. His dark clothes were simple and utilitarian, though they hardly seemed used. 

He arched an eyebrow as she finished her perusal. "Are you well?"

Nyota shrugged, then winced at the twinge in her shoulder. Reaching up to rub the sore spot, she watched with wary eyes as he rose from the chair in front of the console and stepped a few feet to the side to press a few buttons on what she now realized must be a protein resequencer.

She stood and crossed to the table, wincing again at protesting muscles. He turned and set a steaming cup before her, then took the seat across from her.

"The soreness will dissipate shortly," he said. "I regret that my action was necessary, but you appeared about to protest, and I felt it best not to attract undue attention."

Nyota couldn't help herself. She gaped at her companion. "Your—you—what's going on here?" she sputtered.

From his non-descript but well kept clothing and what little of his shuttle she'd seen, she could see he was a man of means. His polite but detached manner was typical of Vulcans, however his eyes were clearly more expressive than any Vulcan's she'd ever met.

"I am Spock," he said, as if that should answer her question.

Her eyes bulged for a moment. "Spock—the gun runner?"

She'd heard of him. A Vulcan with a talent with computers and the skill to be a criminal mastermind. The Empire had a bounty on his head, for dealing arms to anyone with sufficient credits to buy them, no matter which side of the conflict they found themselves on.

He flinched at her description. "I am not, in point of fact, an arms dealer."

"The hell you're not," Nyota said heatedly. "The Empire would pay a hefty sum if I brought you in."

Spock rose and moved back to the replicator, pressing more buttons. "My name is indeed Spock, son of Sarek, of Vulcan and Amanda Grayson of Earth," he said, his back to her. "I graduated Starfleet Academy in 2254 and served aboard the Empire's flagship, the Enterprise, for four years before Nero's attack on Vulcan."

He returned to the table with his own steaming cup and sipped it as she absorbed his words. She was still waiting for his denial to make sense.

"After Vulcan and Earth were destroyed, I left Starfleet and returned to the Vulcan colony. Since then I have been working in concert with the Vulcan High Command to help bring down the arms dealers that are perpetuating the war."

The war. He was trying to stop the war. It was the same mission she was on, albeit for the Empire's intelligence service. She sipped at her tea as she pondered his words.

In the aftermath of Nero's incursion, when Vulcan was a mere memory and Earth sat smoldering in ruin, the Romulans, never ones to miss an opportunity, had invaded the Empire. And so, while the Klingons sat back and waited to take on the victor, the Vulcans and Humans, as the Empire's two strongest members, fought the Romulan Empire tooth and nail.

"I don't suppose you can prove any of that?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"There is only one way that I can assure you I am who I claim to be," he said.

"A subspace communiqué?" she asked hopefully.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "We are currently situated on the far side of the moon above the planet where I encountered you. Were I to attempt to contact the Vulcan High Command, our location would be discovered."

She cringed. "I was afraid of that."

"I assure you that I will not harm you," he said gently, and she relaxed a little at his assurance.

"Alright," she said, straightening up, "do your worst."

Again he raised his eyebrow, a ghost of a smile flicking up one corner of his mouth. She suspected that, under normal circumstances, she might have come to like this man. Being forced to trust him wasn't sitting well, but Nyota knew her duty. She'd tracked this particular band of gun runners across the Empire. She was close to shutting them down. Really, she had no choice.

Spock rose and moved around the table, crouching down beside her as she turned to face him. Reaching out, he settled the pads of his fingers against her face and pressed in slightly.

"My mind to your mind," he intoned, allowing his eyes to drift closed. Nyota's did the same. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

All at once, she could feel a vast presence around her, cocooning her, bearing her along in a warm, secure embrace. She could sense nothing but confident assurance. No deception, no prevarication. Images floated by of the things he'd told her. Pictures of the events that had shaped him. And always beneath it, a vast pool, swirling, lapping at her mind.

She reached out to touch it, and desire shot through her, followed by grudging admiration and respect. She sensed his loyalty to Vulcan, his pride at who he was, even his frustration over the liability of his emotions. She could feel his—was that laughter? He gently nudged her away from the pool of his emotions and bore her smoothly out of his mind.

Nyota blinked and looked down at him where he still crouched beside her. All that raging emotion contained behind an immovable mask. Some of it was directed at her, and she realized with a start that she liked it. "I believe you," she said finally, quietly meeting his eyes.

Spock simply nodded, reaching out to tuck a slice of hair behind her ear. It was an intimate gesture, and she felt herself warmed by it. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and when he seemed satisfied, he rose to return to his chair.

"Now what?" she asked. "My cover is obviously blown. I can't stay here and risk your cover too."

"I do not believe your true identity or purpose has been discovered," he stated.

"But the guard on the roof—"

"Merely watching," he interrupted smoothly. "I do not believe he had detected your presence when I found you."

"Okay," she said. "But we've still got to find a way into that warehouse."

Just then, the console behind Spock beeped. He turned and reached to activate the comm switch. A man appeared on the screen and uttered two words.

"It's on."

~o~

Spock stood inside the large warehouse, locked in a staredown with the man before him. Behind and to his right, Nyota stood quietly, letting him take the lead.

They stood in a crowded space. There were boxes with tarps over top stacked all around them, some as high as the ceiling. Neither of them knew what the boxes held, but both felt certain it wasn't all agricultural supplies.

Behind them, two large and menacing men with Klingon disruptors at the ready prevented them from leaving. As if they planned to before they got what they came for.

Vitor Grigoriev stood before them, one hand on his hip, the other holding a knife, gazing assessingly at both of them. His second, a man called Rasputin, openly leered at Nyota. Cold disgust curled in his belly.

"Spock, you seem to have picked up a rather lovely assistant since last we met," Vitor said, his lazy Russian accent punctuating each word.

"She is not your concern," Spock said in a voice that brooked no debate.

He glanced behind him, and she stepped forward slightly, making it clear that she was prepared for anything. They had agreed this was the best way to confront any suspicion that Grigoriev might have over her sudden appearance. Though Spock worked alone, it was common among Vulcans to travel in pairs. The fact that she was not Vulcan would naturally raise suspicions, but since he himself was not fully Vulcan, he knew Grigoriev wouldn't ask. 

Grigoriev smiled approvingly. "Lovely lady," he said. "Odd that you would choose to travel with a human, don't you think?"

Spock's only answer was to raise his chin. This particular transaction required no pleasantries, and the sooner they got on with business, the better.

Grigoriev shrugged. "To each his own, I suppose."

Spock cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed." He dropped his hand back to his side, noting that Nyota had taken a similar stance to his. Feet slightly apart, weapon within easy reach, they braced for whatever might come next.

"You have need of some phaser rifles, yes?" Grigoriev said, getting down to business.

"I have a client who may be interested in a supply of phaser rifles," Spock confirmed. "For the right price."

Grigoriev laughed, throwing his head back as though it were the funniest joke he'd ever heard. He sobered almost instantly.

"Do you accuse me of gouging you, Vulcan?" he said, low and menacing.

Spock raised his eyebrow once more. "I am merely stating my desire to purchase these items at a fair price. Do you doubt me?"

Grigoriev smiled once again, revealing a line of perfect, white teeth. "I am always fair to you, Spock."

"And yet, the last time we transacted business, you attempted to sell me inferior explosives," Spock pointed out. "You would not have sold me the genuine article if I had not pointed this out to you."

Grigoriev was no fool, but he had become desperate. He owed money to people that didn't take kindly to not being paid, and Spock knew that this, more than anything, had caused him to make deals he might have shied away from in the past. It did make him a more dangerous mark, however, and he signaled to Nyota with a slight flick of his wrist at his growing unease.

All humor was gone from the Russian. He looked between Spock and Nyota, appearing to assess the threat to him. The air in the warehouse became still as the standoff continued. 

In an instant, Grigoriev signaled to his men to take them. Spock struck out at the other man, kicking the knife out of his hand even as he spun and shot the guard behind him. Nyota, following his lead, kicked out at the guard behind her, disarming him and knocking him with a sickening crunch against the wall. As Rasputin charged at her, enraged, she pulled a knife she had hidden in her sleeve and threw it at him.

Rasputin stopped suddenly, the knife protruding from his neck. A look of panic crossed his face, then he slumped to the floor, dead.

Grigoriev stood in shock as both he and Spock watched the man fall at their feet. Then Vitor charged at Spock, his rage causing him to act foolishly. Spock raised his phaser and fired. 

The Russian looked down at his own chest, seeing a large scorch mark bloom in the center. He dropped to the floor, both Nyota and Spock rushing to his side.

Spock leaned over the man, whose eyes glazed over with pain. It was clear he wouldn't last long, so they had to work quickly.

"Your contact in the Empire, tell me who it is," Spock said. "Who arranges delivery of your shipments?"

Grigoriev laughed, blood burbling out of his mouth at the mirthless sound. "Go to hell. I will tell you nothing."

"It is, in fact, you who will arrive in Hades first," Spock said, causing Nyota to smile over at him. "Whether you tell me willingly or I rip the knowledge from your mind, you will give me your secrets before you die."

"Go to hell," Grigoriev whispered again.

Spock firmed his expression and leaned over the prone man. He disliked melding with this sort of man. The turmoil of his thoughts would be difficult to manage at the best of times, however as the man lay dying, it might be impossible to find what he needed. He was determined, however.

He placed his fingers on either side of the man's face, each at the correct position, and dove into his mind. Grigoriev fought as best he could, but Spock was stronger, not just because he was a telepath and the other man wasn’t, but also because Vitor was dying and lacked the physical strength to put up much of a fight.

Deeper and deeper Spock probed, following Vitor's mind as it tried to shield the information from him. When he finally had what he'd come for, he started to pull back, but Grigoriev was having none of it. He fought to keep Spock in his mind, knowing instinctively that if he died while the meld was still active, he'd likely take the other man with him.

Suddenly, a hand on Spock's wrist pulled him forcefully back, severing the connection just as Grigoriev breathed his last.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I am well," he said. "Thank you for your assistance."

Nyota smirked. The might make a good team after all.

"Did you get it?"

Spock's answer was a single word. "Enterprise."

~o~

The room was dark, the only light the glow of tiny stars as they streaked by the window at warp. Nyota and Spock lay spooned together under the blanket on the lone bed in these quarters. He held his arm protectively around her, pulling her close as if she were a treasure of infinite value.

Nyota sighed at the contact. He was soothing, this Vulcan, and she found that she craved his touch. Of course, that could also be due to the bond they currently shared. They had known from the moment they discovered that the Enterprise was at the center of this smuggling ring that their only recourse would be to get on board the ship. They also knew that, while onboard, they would likely be watched the entire time.

Spock had been the one to suggest it: a type of mind-meld that was only entered into by couples committing themselves to each other in a bond similar to human marriage. It would connect their minds, allowing him to monitor her wellbeing and giving them a way to share information without the need for speech.

It had been an invasion; a sweet invasion of ecstasy that had left her knees weak and her hands shaking. Her mind had buzzed with the close contact to his for hours afterwards, and it had taken monumental amounts of self-control to not jump him where he stood, whenever the mood struck her.

He had told her the immediacy would pass, but she still found his touch electric. Even now, in the soft light of the stars, though she couldn't see him, she could feel him. He'd tried to shield her as much as he could from his more extreme emotions, but she'd seen them. The grudging respect had turned to admiration after the warehouse. And the desire had grown exponentially. But both knew this was neither the time nor the place. There would be time later. If they survived.

 _"He seemed nervous,"_ Spock spoke quietly in her mind.

 _"They were all nervous,"_ she said.

She could feel the question in his mind before he thought it, and so she cast her memory back, to show him her perceptions of the officers and crew as they'd boarded and been shown around.

Spock had stepped off the transporter pad first, and the Captain's displeasure at an inspection tour by an official from the Vulcan High Command had been written all over his face. His lips were set in a grim smile, and his eyes were pinched as he examined Spock's black uniform and the Phoenix emblem that represented the new Vulcan people. And though his shoulders were back, it was by no means a non-confrontational pose. 

Next to him, Lieutenant Commander Stiles, the First Officer, regarded them with wary eyes. He was slightly slouched, but as Nyota descended the pad and Spock introduced her as his wife, dressed in an appropriately Vulcan shift, shock registered on his face. He had clearly not been expecting that. His features had hardened as she'd put her fingers to his in the traditional Vulcan gesture of intimacy.

Stiles had shown them the ship, pointing out various points of interest. When they'd arrived on the bridge, everyone had come to attention. Captain Kirk had greeted them cordially, welcoming them to his turf even as he introduced them to the rest of the bridge crew. 

Lieutenant Soames at Communications. Lieutenant Sulu at the helm. Ensign Chekov at navigation.

Each had regarded them suspiciously, some more than others. It was clear they were hiding something. Whether or not they were all in business together, or if they were simply suspicious of outsiders, it was difficult to tell. Grigoriev had only given them one name. It was up to them to find any co-conspirators.

 _"I am, once again, impressed at your skill,"_ Spock said.

 _"I studied Xenolinguistics and Communications at the Academy,"_ she said. _"Non-verbal communication is just as important as the words spoken in determining the meaning of what's being said."_

 _"It is this training that makes you a skilled agent,"_ he said. It was not a question.

_"I would have preferred a post on a starship, but when the war broke out, the powers that be felt my skills could be used elsewhere."_

_"Perhaps when this is over…"_ he offered.

 _"Perhaps,"_ she said. _"But I deal with the here and now, not with what might be."_

 _"Also admirable,"_ he said, allowing some of his pleasure to seep through their bond.

Nyota moaned and snuggled further into his embrace. It was killing her to be so close and yet knowing that there was a gulf that separated them. Duty. It was a dirty word to her in the here and now.

She heard him chuckle behind her, and felt a tingle where his lips met the nape of her neck, bared to him by the braid of her hair.

"Perhaps when this is over…"

~o~

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Nyota spun around, panic causing her heart to flutter. Lt. Commander Stiles stood in the corridor, his expression reeking of contempt. She was unarmed—Spock hadn't wanted her to carry a weapon in order to keep suspicion at bay—so there was nothing stopping Stiles from drawing his phaser and shooting her dead.

She could feel Spock's inquiry along their bond. She tried to send reassurance, but as her fear was escalating, that was all but impossible.

 _"Can you run?"_ he asked.

She barely resisted the urge to shake her head. _"Not likely."_

"Are you lost?" Stiles asked, taking a step toward her.

"I was following the Captain's instructions. I was to meet him and my husband after their tour."

She hoped the lie held up, at least until Spock returned.

Stiles glanced around, then returned his gaze to her. His eyes hardened and he advanced on her, grabbing her arm and hauling her close. "I don't think so. I think you and that Vulcan abomination are here to stop me. You won't. You can't. You'll die, and then I'll kill your husband." He smiled, but it was a sick imitation. "And then I'll kill the Captain and take his place. Then there'll be no one to stop me."

Just then, Spock slid out of the Jefferies Tube he'd been 'inspecting'. He stepped close to the pair, placing his hand on Nyota's shoulder.

"My apologies, ashayam," he said. "I did not realize that you would arrive so soon."

"Commander Stiles was only concerned for my safety," she said. _"We still don't know who he's working with,"_ she whispered quietly in his mind. _"You've got to keep him talking."_

 _"It has been dealt with,"_ Spock replied. He turned to Stiles, who'd let go of Nyota, but was still hovering ominously close. "The Captain was supposed to meet me here but he was delayed, so I conducted my inspection without him. I found some alterations of interest. Tell me, who was responsible for these changes?"

Spock held out the PADD he'd been carrying, the notes and images clearly displayed.

"That's Lieutenant Soames' passcode," Stiles said. "He's our Comms officer."

"Indeed," Spock said, raising an eyebrow.

_"Is it?"_

_"It is, however the lock was encoded for two passcodes. Soames' and Stiles'."_

Just then, several men came charging around the corner, phasers drawn. Stiles stepped back, drawing his own phaser as he joined his men. "Perfect timing, boys. It seems we've got a couple of stowaways to deal with."

Spock tensed, ready to dive out of the way at a moment's notice. Nyota knew that they couldn't last long. These men knew this ship, and they didn't have any allies among the crew. She'd known the end might come on this mission the moment he'd proposed it, but she'd been hoping she'd live long enough to experience the joys of marriage to a Vulcan. From what she'd heard, it could be interesting.

The first phaser blast took them by surprise, and Spock pushed her out of the way, though not soon enough. He took a glancing blow to the shoulder, and as they rolled out of the way, he tried to protect both Nyota and his wound.

"Cease fire!" another voice from a different direction yelled.

Stiles' men froze in shock as the Captain and several of his men came barreling around the corner, phasers drawn and pointed at Stiles and his men.

"What's this?" Stiles yelled.

"This is me taking back my ship," the Captain said quietly, with an edge of steel that made Stiles' men shrink back.

"He's been snooping around, Captain," Stiles said, pointing to Spock where he still lay on the floor. "He's found some sort of weapons cache. I think he put them there and he's trying to frame Soames."

Kirk's expression hardened. Behind him, two guards wrestled Lieutenant Soames around the corner. "I'd like to believe you, Stiles, but it seems your partner doesn't want to do your time."

Stiles paled. "You idiot! You couldn't just keep your mouth shut, could you?"

"Take him," Kirk ordered his men, who fanned out and arrested Stiles. "As for the rest of you, you can swear your loyalty to me, or you can go with him to the brig. Your choice."

The men looked at each other, then back at the Captain. As one, they knelt in the hallway, saluting him with a fist to the heart.

"Good choice," Kirk said with a humorless smile. "Take these two to the brig. I'll check on them later."

Nyota didn't think that Stiles could get any paler, but apparently that was entirely possible. As he was being led away, he started yelling, raining down invectives against the Captain and Spock, cursing them for ruining his plans.

Spock rose, helping Nyota to her feet. Once the corridor was empty, the Captain turned to them.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"I was merely doing the task assigned me, Captain," Spock said.

Kirk turned curious eyes on Nyota, who translated. "You're welcome."

Kirk chuckled, then turned back to Spock. "How did you know the weapons would be there?"

"I scanned the ship and found anomalies in this Jefferies Tube," Spock explained. "As I told you during our earlier communication, the lock code was keyed to both Soames' code and Stiles'."

"Probably to keep one from stealing the weapons and making the deal without the other," Kirk said.

Which explained so much. Nyota had been wondering why the Captain managed to come around the corner just when he was needed most. Though she was still confused about one thing.

"Why did they do it?"

"Stiles has hated the Romulans for a long time," Kirk said. "His grandfather was killed in the last war. When he found out that Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry, he turned his hate on the Vulcans. He started stealing weapons and selling them to the human resistance cells, hoping that they'd take care of the Vulcans while the Empire took care of the Romulans."

Nyota nodded. "Would he have succeeded?"

"It is possible," Spock said. "But he might also have destabilized the Empire, which would have allowed the Romulans to triumph."

"You should head to sickbay and get that shoulder looked at," Kirk said. When Spock made to object, the Captain held up a hand. "I'll escort you there myself. McCoy is good, and he's familiar with Vulcans."

 _"Please,"_ Nyota said through their bond.

Spock glanced at her, finally nodding his agreement. They moved along the corridor, heading for the turbolift and sickbay.

~o~

"So, what will you do now?" Kirk asked as Spock and Nyota prepared to transport back to the Starbase.

Spock looked to Nyota, who blushed. He might not have noticed it, except that they were still bonded, and so he could still feel all of her emotions. And, they had spent the previous night tangled in the sheets and each other, finally giving in to the attraction that had thrummed between them. Knowing that they might never see each other again had lent an urgency to their encounter, and the residual heat still burned in his veins.

"I must report to the Vulcan High Command," Spock said, opting for the truth. "After that, I will await my next assignment."

"And I'm sure Starfleet would really like their operative back," Nyota put in.

"Well, I seem to be short one Executive Officer," the Captain said. "If you'd be interested, I'd be happy to have you." He turned to Nyota. "And you, of course. I seem to be in need of a Communications Officer as well."

"Thank you, Captain," Nyota said. Spock could feel her embarrassment, but before he could rescue her, she spoke. "But it's not necessary to find us a posting together. We aren't married."

Kirk's expression radiated with surprise. "You're not?"

"That is correct," Spock confirmed.

"We decided that posing as a married couple would help ease our way with your crew," Nyota explained, "and make my presence less suspicious."

"But you seemed so close."

Spock looked at Nyota, who simply shrugged, then looked back to the Captain. "We _are_ bonded. It allowed us to communicate nonverbally during the mission. Otherwise, we only met a week ago."

"Wow," Kirk said, smiling.

The transporter chief cleared his throat. "Sir, they're ready."

Kirk nodded, then extended his hand, inviting them onto the transporter pad. Spock and Nyota climbed the stairs, turning around to face the Captain as they waited for transport.

"Signal the starbase that our passengers will be arriving shortly." He turned back to the two departing agents. "My offer still stands. If you want the positions, they're yours."

Nyota looked at Spock, who raised an eyebrow at her. _"Is it something you'd consider?"_ she asked.

_"Perhaps. Would you?"_

_"To see you again? Yes, I would."_

Spock fought a smile as he felt the heat build again between them. They had days yet before they would be required to return to their respective commands. In that time, perhaps they would be able to spend more time enjoying each other's company.

He felt her amusement along their bond. But he also felt her respect and admiration, sentiments he returned fully. He had not been looking for a companion when he started this mission, only to find those trying to destroy what was left of his people. But perhaps this outcome was not so surprising after all. He had completed his mission, and was free to choose his future once again.

And as he looked into Nyota's eyes, he could see a future different from the one he'd expected. A future he found appealing. He turned back to the Captain.

"Then, when we have completed our debriefings, we will contact you."

Kirk's smile stretched. "Excellent. I'll look forward to hearing from you." He turned around to the transporter tech. "Energize."

And as the transporter took hold, Spock looked over to Nyota, finding her looking back, feeling the same sense of anticipation in her that was coursing through him. The future, it seemed, would be a good deal more interesting than he'd originally imagined.

~Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Lieutenant Stiles appeared in the Star Trek: Original Series episode _Balance of Terror_ as the ship's navigator. Having lost several family members to the hostilities with the Romulans, he had an intense hatred of them, which he then transferred to Spock when it became clear that Romulans and Vulcans shared a common ancestry. There's a more complete bio of Stiles at [Memory Alpha](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Stiles_%28Lieutenant%29).


End file.
